


Scattered and Lost (Chrobin Celebration Day 5)

by Voidpurrmina



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Chrobin Week, Fluff, M/M, Wedding Fluff, but i figured i might as well tag them anyway, chrobin celebration, yeah no everyone else except chrom and robin are very minorly mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:34:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25649617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Voidpurrmina/pseuds/Voidpurrmina
Summary: Ylisstol was a morning city. It woke up with the sun.The only thing that didn’t wake up with the sun was Chrom.
Relationships: Chrom & My Unit | Reflet | Robin
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Scattered and Lost (Chrobin Celebration Day 5)

**Author's Note:**

> oh goodness golly me i've finally written something that didn't involve grima.  
> a miracle indeed.
> 
> this was supposed to be angst but my romance-addled brain held me at knifepoint and said "fluff. NOW."
> 
> title comes from the celeste ost (Mr. Oshiro come home)

Gentle breezes whispered all throughout Ylisstol, the harbinger of rising dawn to rouse the people out of their dreams and beds. Shopkeepers opened up their shops and showed off their many wares. Housekeepers carried on with their cleaning. Street cats stretched their lithe bodies and began stalking the early morning city streets, hoping to come across a stranger kind enough to leave out leftover fish bones or cream. 

Ylisstol was a morning city. It woke up with the sun. 

The only thing that didn’t wake up with the sun was Chrom.

It had been that way for a while. Ylisse as a whole was still healing from the incident with the Fell Dragon a year prior. Mages were working hard to free Ylissean farmlands from Grima’s residual blight magic. Healers had to mend countless wounds due to collateral damage. House Ylisse had to do its part as well. 

No matter how much Chrom would’ve liked to hole himself away in his room, he had responsibilities. And each day he woke up, he dreaded what the day would bring. What would the day bring? Another 24 hours without Robin. He had seen the slender man disappear right before his eyes as he had slain his draconic counterpart. That smile - that loving, knowing smile - haunts his nightmares each night and lingers in his daydreams. 

Every day is the same pattern. Chrom wakes up begrudgingly thanks to Lissa and her ever so graceful tactic of dumping one of the local cats on Chrom's chest ("There are better ways to wake me up-" Chrom grumbled tiredly through a face full of fuzzy cat haunches the first time this happened. "Maybe, but this one seems to work so far," Lissa retorted with a childish raspberry). Chrom gets dressed and eats breakfast. And before he can do any responsibilities that a normal Exalt should do, he takes off on horseback to the open field where Robin was first found, only to find nothing out there save for the flora and fauna of Ylisse's lush countryside. Not even a depression of a body left in the tall grasses, wet with morning dew.

And each day, after he finds nothing in that open field, a fraction of his hope chips away to glut the growing despair of the reality that he doesn’t want to face. The reality that Robin is gone and that he has to carry on without the wind at his back and the sword at his side. Despite all, his routine never changes.

\- - -

At some point, Chrom sets up a small grave in the field. It’s not much, really. Just a pile of stones under a particularly large and beautiful wisteria tree. On occasion, he brings gifts. 

Sometimes he brings flowers. Other times, it’s bits of sea glass or books he thinks Robin would enjoy reading. They’re never extravagant. Just simple things he thinks Robin would’ve found interest in. He even brought a small plushie of his best friend’s namesake bird to sit upon the pile of rocks. 

Sometimes he’ll sit under the wisteria tree, next to the grave, and take a nap. It calms him for the briefest of moments, but then he remembers that he will never again fondly ruffle his best friend’s unruly hair or give him a hearty pat on the back. 

It sobers him in the worst of ways.

\- - - 

Chrom has to come to terms with the fact that Robin isn’t coming back, but it hurts. It  _ hurts  _ to think about it. 

The Shepherds are worried about his mental health, Lissa especially. Chrom knows their concerns are well-founded but he just can’t bring himself to say those three words that hurt more than any Thoron to the chest. He can’t bear to admit that Robin is dead. 

Every day he cycles through the memories they had together: their first meeting, the comforting after the midmire, the first time they had ever shared a kiss. Sometimes the Exalt stares at a wedding ring he had saved for Robin. He had planned to marry the tactician and he was foolish enough to not even tell him before he had expired! He rolls the jewelry between his thumb and his pointer finger, noting the way the deep blue stone reflects bright light. So pretty, and yet filled with regret and bittersweet memories.

He clutches it close to his heart and cries.

\- - -

Two years have passed. Chrom’s gotten over the worst of it. He looks and acts a little more like a mature Exalt. He’s stopped looking for a sign of Robin in the fields. He’s stopped moping in his room for the most part. He hasn’t thrown away the ring; he keeps it locked up inside a box deep in his closet. He can’t bear to get rid of that yet.

He’s not better, per se, but he’s also not a giant wreck.

The days blend together. Royal duties wind up interfering with militia work more and more until he hardly spends any time with most of the Shepherds. Exalt work is hard and tedious and he tries not to think of the one who would frown disapprovingly at Chrom’s messy organization and fix everything right up like it was the easiest thing in the world. True, bright happiness is terribly few and far between. He and Lissa joke about things every now and then and those days are the brightest he gets.

His dreams are still plagued by his memories of Robin. They devolve into nightmares more often than not. It’s not only the tactician that gives him night terrors, though. The horrors of war may have hardened his body but his psyche feels the repercussions more often than not. Memories of the Risen and their putrid smell, the rotted faces of ancient people crawling with infectious pustules give him gooseflesh. The pure fright of facing Grima head-on makes him wake up in the middle of the night, sweating and panting; if he concentrates enough he can feel the evil dragon’s aura rolling on his skin, real enough to give him that sickening feeling in his stomach and full-body shivers. And memories of Emmeryn in her last moments…

Even though it had happened years ago, those nightmares had never gone away in the first place.

On nights with those painful echoes of the past, he imagines Robin’s warm and gentle embrace and cradles himself back to sleep.

\- - -

Chrom finally has a day to himself. Part of him wants to visit Robin’s makeshift grave again. A while ago he found a feather, beautiful and pristine, and splotched with tan and white in a way that reminded him of his favorite tactician. He had been meaning to go for a while but he simply had no time: the council keeps him busy and every so often he has to visit and talk back to his people, remind them that he is listening and among them. Like Emmeryn used to do, he notes absently. Saddling up his favorite mare and holding onto a satchel, he takes off into the countryside. He needs some quality time with Robin.

Alone. 

He arrives near the grave sooner than he expects, but that’s okay. Dismounting his horse and leaving her to graze in the meadow, he walks towards the wisteria tree. He brushes the droopy purple flowers aside and sits against the trunk. 

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” he says to Robin’s grave, “I brought some gifts to make up for lost time-” He takes off his satchel and brings out a collection of knickknacks: a few purple and yellow gemstones, the feather he had thought of earlier, and…

... the wedding ring. 

“I was going to give this to you…” Chrom mumbles out loud, rolling the precious ring between his fingers again and watching it glint magnificently in the afternoon sun. He sighs and places the ring on top of the pile of stones. “But… you’re not here anymore. Even so, I might as well give it to you anyway. I love you.” The royal closes his eyes and sighs again, ready to drift off to sleep for an hour or two.

“Is this your way of proposing to me?”

Chrom’s eyes blink open and the Exalt sits up, startled. He glances around wildly, searching for the source of that familiar, melodic voice until he finds it.

There Robin sat, against the wisteria tree trunk and right beside his little makeshift grave. When the two locked eyes, Robin winked. 

Chrom damn near screamed.

“R-Robin!? He said in disbelief, thankful the sturdy trunk of the tree was there to keep him upright. He couldn’t believe it! Robin was here and staring —  _ winking _ — at him!

“You’d better believe it,” The tactician shot back.

Chrom frowned worriedly. “How do I know you’re not just some mirage or something? How do I know you’re real?”

Robin chuckled softly and got up, carefully stepping over the grave and sitting next to Chrom. 

And then he kissed him. Right on the lips. 

Robin  _ kissed _ him.

He wasn’t dreaming. His Robin was here. He was there and tangible and real!

“Did you miss me?” The Plegian hums with an apologetic smile after parting from his beloved Exalt’s soft, warm lips. He toys idly with the ring that Chrom had set down. “I took a while, didn’t I?”

“Almost three years,” Chrom breathes. 

Robin looks surprised. “How did you survive??” Just barely, Chrom wants to say.

Instead, the royal hugs his cherished tactician tightly, like if he lets go Robin will disintegrate and fly off into the wind like thin paper. “Doesn’t matter. You’re here now.”

Robin hugs back nearly as tight. “I’ve missed you a lot.”

Chrom sobs into the sturdy fabric of Robin’s cloak. 

“I missed you too.”

\- - -

Everyone balks when they see Robin again.

The Plegian is bombarded with questions, most of which he doesn’t even have time to answer before another three take its place. Lissa tackles him to the ground in a rather suffocating hug. Vaike slaps him on the back, leaving him winded. Maribelle hits him upside the head with her parasol for leaving and lectures him for a good fifteen minutes before Chrom comes to his rescue and ushers him out of the barracks. 

The Ylissean groans as he opens the door to his bedroom and allows Robin inside. 

“Sorry for the literal abuse you just had to endure-”   
  


“It’s fine, Chrom. I can’t blame them. I was gone for almost three years.”

“Even so-”

Robin shushes Chrom with a brief and gentle peck on the lips. 

“I’m fine. More importantly-” the shorter man glances at the mess of parchments and other assorted work-related items on Chrom’s desk, “-What happened here?”

Chrom raises a hand to itch the back of his head nervously.

“Er… well, you see-”

\- - -

With Robin back, the rebuilding of Ylisse proceeds much quicker. He and Chrom still make for a terrifying duo, both on and off the battlefield. Robin sorts out the minutiae of difficult documents and Chrom officiates what he can to better the lives of the common folk. It’s hard work, but everything runs smoother with Robin’s deft hands neatening up all of Chrom’s work. It feels great to have him back and the citizens are emphatic as well. The return of the hero-tactician was much appreciated by everyone, it seems.

“Yes, by the way.”

Chrom looks up from the current proposal he was reading to glance at his right-hand man who was sitting right beside him. “Hm?”

Robin was still scribbling away at a document in his loopy almost-cursive handwriting. “To your weird proposal to me on the day I came back. Yes. I would like to marry you.”

Chrom chokes on his own breath. 

Robin laughs, light and ariose, and looks up from his work to stare at Chrom with a playful glint in his eyes. “Did you forget?”

The Exalt’s face is bright red and reaching deeper reds by the second. “O-of course not!” he stammers, “I thought  _ you _ had forgotten!!”

“Not a chance,” Robin chirps with a sly grin. He scoots a little closer to Chrom and puts a small hand on Chrom’s thigh.

“Hng-” Chrom says eloquently.

“I suppose you’d better get to making wedding arrangements-” Robin purrs, idly tracing shapes into Chrom’s leg, making the Ylissean stiffen nervously. 

Robin is relentless in his teasing. He pinches at Chrom’s leg gently before sliding both of his hands up to the Exalt’s hips and before he knew it, Robin was straddling him and staring at him with those magnificent golden eyes. Chrom’s hands itch to touch Robin in the same way but he’s scrabbling for purchase on the last bit of self-control he has in his mind.

“The faster you do, the faster I can call you my beloved husband...”

Chrom nearly dies on the spot when Robin kisses him like this, close and pressed up against him, thighs hugging his waist and hips doing unspeakable things against his own. 

And all too soon, Robin pulls away from that heavenly kiss, stops that delicious friction, and slides off of Chrom’s lap before things get too serious. Chrom almost whines at the loss.

“I think you should get to it, my dear Exalt-” Robin winks at Chrom and sits back in his chair.

Chrom finishes up his work and takes a cold bath immediately afterward.

\- - -

Every day leading up to the wedding is stressful. From Robin witnessing Maribelle fretting about the color of the window drapes and napkins matching to Chrom having to stay still enough to get his suit tailored, the two of them were rushing around the castle at high speeds. 

They barely get to see each other during preparation, only having time to collapse in each others’ arms in the late hours of the night or gaze at each other lovingly in the early morning before having to rush off once again to prepare for the big day. 

It’s a little lonely, but Chrom knew that it will be worth it in the end. 

Marrying Robin… 

Yes, he wants that more than anything.

\- - -

“Robin, anymore pacing and you’ll wear a hole through the floor-” Chrom chides and the man in question paces around him for the nth time. He knows the Plegian is prone to overthink, but this is absurd. He doesn’t want his husband-to-be-in-about-five-minutes to trip and fall flat on his face on their wedding day.

“Sorry, I just really want this day to be perfect,” the tactician mutters. Chrom puts a firm hand on Robin’s shoulder and smiles. Robin’s shoulders sag just slightly. 

“Everything will be okay,” Chrom reassures. Robin nods. 

\- - -

The wedding went spectacularly.

Chrom wishes that he could say that he remembers every little detail, but most of it went by in a blur. He remembers Robin’s elegant gray suit, the gentle lull of Libra’s voice as their priest, and the feel of Robin’s slightly chapped lips as they kissed for the first time as Exalt and Royal Consort. Maribelle and Lissa cried. Panne ate the bouquet. Henry released a dozen crows instead of doves and Ricken said something about that being a bad omen.

It couldn’t have gone any better. 

And the day after? Chrom spends the whole day kissing Robin silly and doting on him as much as possible. Oh, how he loves his tactician. His Royal Consort. His husband — he can say that now! It’s a wonderful feeling.

“Robin?” Chrom mumbles after lavishing his husband with the umpteenth kiss of the day. The consort hums in response, carding his hands through Chrom’s royal blue hair.

“I love you. Like, a lot.”

Robin smiles, bright and full of affection and Chrom wants to keep that image ingrained in his head for every year to come.

“Isn't this the 20th time you’ve said that today? It’s hardly noon, Chrom.”

“But it’s true!”

Robin sighs and rolls his eyes. 

“I love you too.”


End file.
